Post-Augustan Poetry From Seneca to Juvenal Part 3

Direct me thither, set thy father there.

Let not that dreadful seat be empty long, But place me there a greater monster still.

There will I sit and of my fate propose A riddle dark that no man shall resolve.

What riddle like to this could she propose, That curse of Thebes, who wove destructive words In puzzling measures? What so dark as this?

_He was his grandsire's son-in-law, and yet His father's rival; brother of his sons, And father of his brothers: at one birth The grandame bore unto her husband sons, And grandsons to herself_. Who can unwind A tangle such as this? E'en I myself, Who bore the spoils of triumph o'er the Sphinx, Stand mute before the riddle of my fate.

MILLER.

There is no need to multiply instances; each play will supply many. Only in the _Troades_[184] and the _Phaedra_ does this declamatory rhetoric rise to something higher than mere declamation and near akin to true poetry. In these plays there are two speeches standing on a different plane to anything else in Seneca's iambics. In the _Troades_ Agamemnon is protesting against the proposed sacrifice of Polyxena to the spirit of the dead Achilles (255).

quid caede dira n.o.biles clari ducis aspergis umbras? noscere hoc primum decet, quid facere victor debeat, victus pati.

violenta nemo imperia continuit diu, moderata durant; ...

magna momento obrui vincendo didici. Troia nos tumidos facit nimium ac feroces? stamus hoc Danai loco, unde illa cecidit. fateor, aliquando impotens regno ac superbus altius memet tuli; sed fregit illos spiritus haec quae dare potuisset aliis causa, Fortunae favor.

tu me superb.u.m, Priame, tu timidum facis.

ego esse quicquam sceptra nisi vano putem fulgore tectum nomen et falso comam vinclo decentem? casus haec rapiet brevis, nec mille forsan ratibus aut annis decem.

... fatebor ... affligi Phrygas vincique volui; ruere et aequari solo utinam arcuissem.

Why besmirch with murder foul the n.o.ble shade of that renowned chief? First must thou learn the bounds of a victor's power, of the vanquished's suffering. No man for long has held unbridled sway; only self-control may endure ... I myself have conquered and have learned thereby that man's mightiness may fall in the twinkling of an eye. Shall Troy o'erthrown exalt our pride and make us overbold? Here we the Danaans stand on the spot whence she has fallen. Of old, I own, I have borne myself too haughtily, self-willed and proud of my power. But Fortune's favour, which had made another proud, has broken my pride.

Priam, thou makest me proud, thou makest me tremble. I count the sceptre naught save a glory bright with worthless tinsel that sets the vain splendour of a crown upon my brow. All this the chance of one short hour may take from me without the aid of a thousand s.h.i.+ps and ten long years of siege ...

I will own my fault ... I desired to crush and conquer Troy.

Would I had forbidden to lay her low and raze her walls to the ground!

The thought is not deep: the speech might serve for a model for a _suasoria_ in the schools of rhetoric. But there is a stateliness and dignity about it that is most rare in these plays. At last after dreary tracts of empty rant we meet Seneca, the spiritual guide of the epistles and the treatises.

Far more striking, however, from the dramatic standpoint, are the great speeches in the _Phaedra_, where the heroine makes known her pa.s.sion for Hippolytus (600 sqq.). They are frankly rhetorical, but direct, pa.s.sionate, and to the point. They contain few striking lines or sentiments, but they are clear and comparatively free from affectation.

Theseus has maddened Phaedra by his infidelities, and has long been absent from her, imprisoned in the underworld. An uncontrollable pa.s.sion for her stepson has come upon her. She appeals to the unsuspecting Hippolytus for pity and protection (619):

muliebre non est regna tutari urbium; tu qui iuventae flore primaevo viges cives paterno fortis imperio rege, sinu receptam supplicem ac servam tege.

miserere viduae.

_Hipp_. Summus hoc omen deus avertat.

aderit sospes actutum parens.

'Tis no woman's task to rule cities. Do thou, strong in the flower of thy first youth, flinch not, but govern the state by the power thy father held. Take me and s.h.i.+eld me in thy bosom, thy suppliant and thy slave! Pity thy father's widow.

_Hipp_. Nay, high heaven avert the omen. Soon shall my father return unscathed.

Phaedra then begins to show her true colours. 'Nay!' she replies, 'he will not come. Pluto holds him fast, the would-be ravisher of his bride, unless indeed Pluto, like others I wot of, is indifferent to love.'

Hippolytus attempts to console her: he will do all in his power to make life easy for her:

et te merebor esse ne viduam putes ac tibi parentis ipse supplebo loc.u.m.

I shall prove me worthy of thee: so thou shalt not deem thyself a widow. I will fill up my absent father's room.

These innocent words are as fuel to Phaedra's pa.s.sion. She turns to him again appealing for pity, pity for an ill she dare not name--

quod in novercam cadere vix credas malum.

He bids her speak out. She replies, 'Love consumes me with an all-devouring flame. 'He still fails to catch her meaning, supposing that the pa.s.sion of which she speaks is for the absent Theseus. She can restrain herself no longer: 'Aye, 'tis for Theseus!' she cries (646):

Hippolyte, sic est; Thesei vultus amo [185]

illos priores quos tulit quondam puer, c.u.m prima puras barba signaret genas monstrique caecam Cnosii vidit domum et longa curva fila collegit via.

quis tum ille fulsit! presserant vittae comam et ora flavus tenera tinguebat pudor; inerant lacertis mollibus fortes tori; tuaeque Phoebes vultus aut Phoebi mei, tuusque potius--talis, en talis fuit c.u.m placuit hosti, sic tulit celsum caput: in te magis refulget incomptus decor; est genitor in te totus et torvae tamen pars aliqua matris miscet ex aequo decus; in ore Graio Scythicus apparet rigor.

si c.u.m parente Cretic.u.m intra.s.ses fretum, tibi fila potius nostra nevisset soror.

te te, soror, quac.u.mque siderei poli in parte fulges, invoco ad causam parem: domus sorores una corripuit duas, te genitor, at me natus. en supplex iacet adlapsa genibus regiae proles domus, respersa nulla labe et intacta, innocens tibi mutor uni. certa descendi ad preces: finem hic dolori faciet aut vitae dies, miserere amantis.[186]

Even so, Hippolytus; I love the face that Theseus wore, in the days of old while yet he was a boy, when the first down marked his bright cheeks and he looked on the dark home of the Cretan monster and gathered the long magic thread along the winding way. Ah! how then he shone upon my eyes. A wreath was about his hair and his delicate cheeks glowed with the golden bloom of modesty. Strong sinews stood out upon his shapely arms and his countenance was the countenance of the G.o.ddess that thou servest or of mine own bright sun-G.o.d; nay, rather 'twas as thine own. Even so, even so looked he when he won the heart of her that was his foe, and lofty was his carriage like to thine. But in thee still brighter s.h.i.+nes an artless glory, and on thee is all thy father's beauty. Yet mingled therewith in equal portion is something of thy wild mother's fairness. On thy Greek face is seen the fierceness of the Scythian. Hadst thou sailed o'er the sea with thy sire to Crete, for thee rather had my sister spun the magic thread. On thee, on thee, my sister, I call where'er thou s.h.i.+nest in the starry heaven, on thee I call to aid my cause. Lo! sisters twain hath one house brought to naught--thee did the father ruin, me the son. Lo! suppliant at thy knees I fall, the daughter of a king, stainless and pure and innocent. For thee alone I swerve from my course. I have steeled my soul and stooped to beg of thee. Today shall end either my sorrow or my life. Pity, have pity, on her that loves thee.

Then the storm of Hippolytus' anger breaks. Here at least Seneca has used his great rhetorical gifts to good effect. The pa.s.sion may be highly artificial when compared with the pa.s.sion of the genuinely human Phaedra of Euripides, but it is nevertheless pa.s.sion and not bombast: crudity there may be, but there is no real irrelevance.

There is less to praise and more to wonder at in Seneca's dialogue.

Instead of rational conversation or controversy, he gives us a brilliant but meretricious display of epigram, the mechanical nature of which is often emphasized by a curious symmetry of structure. For line after line one character takes up the words of another and turns them against him with dexterity as extraordinary as it is monotonous. The resulting artificiality is almost incredible. It appears in its most extravagant form in the _Thyestes_.[187] Scarcely less strained, though from the nature of the subject the extravagance is less repellent, is a pa.s.sage in the _Troades_. Achilles' ghost has demanded the sacrifice of Polyxena. Agamemnon hesitates to give orders for the sacrifice. Pyrrhus, Achilles' son, enumerates the great deeds of his father, and asks, indignantly, if such glory is to win naught save neglect after death.

Agamemnon has sacrificed his own daughter, why should he not sacrifice Priam's? Agamemnon--in the speech quoted above--refuses indignantly.

'Sacrifice oxen if you will: no human blood shall be shed!' Pyrrhus replies (306):

hac dextra Achilli victimam reddam suam.

quam si negas retinesque, maiorem dabo dignamque quam det Pyrrhus; et nimium diu a caede nostra regia cessat ma.n.u.s paremque poscit Priamus.

_Agam_. haud equidem nego hoc esse Pyrrhi maximum in bello decus, saevo peremptus ense quod Priamus iacet, _supplex paternus.

_Pyrrh_. _supplices_ nostri _patris_ hostesque eosdem novimus. Priamus tamen praesens rogavit; tu gravi pavidus metu, nec ad rogandum fortis Aiaci preces Ithacoque mandas clausus atque hostem tremens.

By this right hand he shall receive his own.

And if thou dost refuse and keep the maid, A greater victim will I slay, and one More worthy Pyrrhus' gift: for all too long From royal slaughter hath my hand been free, And Priam asks an equal sacrifice.

_Agam_. Far be it from my wish to dim the praise That thou dost claim for this most glorious deed-- Old Priam slain by thy barbaric sword, Thy father's suppliant.

_Pyrrh_. I know full well My father's suppliants--and well I know His enemies. Yet royal Priam came And made his plea before my father's face; But thou, o'ercome with fear, not brave enough Thyself to make request, within thy tent Did trembling hide, and thy desires consign To braver men, that they might plead for thee.

MILLER.

Agamemnon retorts, 'What of your father, when he s.h.i.+rked the toils of war and lay idly in his tent?'--

levi canoram verberans plectro chelyn.

_Pyrrh_. tunc magnus Hector, arma contemnens tua, cantus Achillis timuit et tanto in metu _navalibus pax alta Thessalicis fuit_.

_Agam_. nempe isdem in _istis Thessalis navalibus pax alta_ rursus Hectoris patri _fuit_.

_Pyrrh_. est _regis_ alti _spiritum_ regi dare.

_Agam_. cur dextra _regi spiritum_ eripuit tua?

_Pyrrh_. mortem _misericors_ saepe pro vita dabit.

_Agam_. et nunc _misericors_ virginem busto petis?

_Pyrrh_. iamne immolari virgines credis nefas?